


Pennae Osseae

by msimamizizam



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (moira has a very small appearance! but was still fun to write), Ana is kind of a shit mom, Demon Deals, F/F, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, i love how i tagged smoking like that features prominantly at all, modern au / no overwatch, witch's familiar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: They say there are certain crossroads, in certain lonely towns that have wasted away with time, where you can pack up all your most precious things in a box and bury them in the dirt to make a wish come true.Fareeha Amari, however, does not live near any such town, so when she is given the chance to make such a deal for herself it's a surprising opportunity, to say the least.





	1. Comfort

Fareeha Amari worked as a professional guard, and had quite the steady income of money, as people are always rich and in need of someone to guard their belongings. She was well-known for being sensible, with her feet on the ground and her eyes on the crowds. However, she had not always been this way; when she was a child, as most adults were once, she had loved to hear tales of plain dirt paths with barely any trace of wheels to have passed through them, whether from tires or horse carts. It was here, she’d been told, that one could make an offering to a witch and get their wishes granted. The hushed whisper of her mother’s voice as she shared these tales with her daughter, always like they were a secret only she was trusted enough to know, was music to Fareeha’s ears. She could see clearly the twinkle of her mother's eyes and hear the creaking of the rocking chair that Ana Amari had always sat in to tell her stories.

 

However, though Fareeha had grown up hearing tall tales around a crackling fire, outside held the quaint, well-paved subdivision she’d lived in throughout her entire childhood. The nearest possible shell of a village that may or may not even have a dirt crossroads was miles and miles away, and her mother hadn't had the time for an hours long drive to do such a silly thing as make a wish. Fareeha had to be content with throwing coins in fountains and blowing dandelions into the wind like all the other children her age. And when she grew too old to whisper her desires to even shooting stars, Fareeha was left with nothing but to let her loneliness eat her and spend her days protecting others, only able to reach the dirt crossroads of her memories in her dreams.

 

Fareeha stared down at the cigarette box she'd pulled out of her pocket. It had been safely nestled inside her favorite jacket for months, as she'd been trying to (quite successfully) quit for some time, but Fareeha felt the stars were not shining as brightly as they normally did, and she needed something to light up the night. She had thought she'd save his last cigarette for something important, but she didn't have a promotion in sight and no interesting jobs, so she thought that night was as good as any she'd ever live through.

 

The lighter flickered and the end of the cigarette glowed a bright cherry red as it began to burn. She breathed in slowly, but her lungs spasmed and jumping as they filled with the now unfamiliar smoke. Fareeha managed a smile, having forgotten how it felt to have fog in her lungs, and found she somewhat regretted the decision as her entire chest rebelled against her. Eventually she managed to settle down, letting puffs of smoke slowly curl from her lips and be pulled away by the night breeze. Ashes fell from her fingers down to the dimly lit yellow paint of the asphalt lot as she closed her mouth around the end and inhaled deeply.

 

Her copper eyes glanced around the silent lot, still on guard, even on the break she’d allowed herself from life. Fareeha shook her head, exasperated at how well trained she was. Maybe if she was even slightly worse at her job, she’d be able to relax. At least the emptiness of the lot was something of comfort, and the lack of hiding spots was enough to at least get her shoulders to relax, but her eyes were still active, scanning as consistently as a radar.

 

Fareeha sighed and tapped the end of the cigarette with one gloved finger, content with burning it down halfway. She needed to get back home, and thus dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed the remains with her heel. Where the ground dipped in strange little pockets, the ash fell into the crevices, disappearing into the pockmarked asphalt without so much as a trace. She turned to walk towards her car, so lonely since all the cars around it had left, and her heart lept into her throat when she saw a dark figure standing behind her.

 

"You do not value many material goods in this world, my dear," the stranger said. Fareeha froze, for the split second she allowed herself to assess the situation. The woman was wearing what she could only guess was a brown robe, the ends in tatters, a leather bound book with a strange design on his cover resting on her hip. This was enough for Fareeha to decide to slowly step back, her right hand resting on the smooth cover of her holster. The woman giggled behind her hand as she glanced down at Fareeha’s waist, shaking her head.

 

“There will be no need for that, Fareeha. I mean you no harm,” she said. A fire flickered behind her paralyzingly bright blue eyes as she used them to trace up and down the rest of Fareeha’s body, getting a good look at her. For her part, Fareeha managed to calm herself, straightening up and nonchalantly dusting her pants off. She even tilted her head from side to side with a smile as the bizarre woman examined her.

 

“I don’t see how it’s fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours,” Fareeha remarked as the stranger began to circle around her. She kept her eyes trained on the woman and her strange dress all the while, only letting her out of sight for the moment it took to twist her head around.

 

“That’s moving far too quickly,” teased the stranger with a soft laugh. “To know someone’s name has considerable power, and to know mine would give you great power over me, which is something I cannot allow. You may simply call me a witch, for that is what I am, and I have come to grant you any wish you desire, Fareeha Amari.” She bowed, bending one arm under her, but keeping her other hand around the gnarled hand of a broom Fareeha swore hadn’t been floating beside her before. When she stood upright again, she frowned at Fareeha’s puzzled expression. “You made your offering, did you not?”

 

“Offering?” Fareeha looked around, as if the cement or few trees would tell her what she’d seemed to have done. She racked her brain, but couldn’t remember anything remotely ritualistic she’d done. All she’d done was have a smoke. She looked down at the butt of the cigarette, and frowned at its odd placement in the intersection of two painted yellow lines, right where she’d ground it into the asphalt.

 

“You know,” the witch said, watching Fareeha’s expression carefully, “they say there are certain crossroads where you can make an offering and bury it in the dirt to have your wish come true. But you know these stories are all very old, don’t you? Just like us witches.” She paused, and when Fareeha nodded, her eyes brought back up, the witch continued with a smile. “We cannot hope to survive if we stay in the same lonely towns, when all the young dreamers are moving off to big cities. And so we have adapted. Some wait on street corners, others sit on park benches, and I have been waiting for you, in this parking lot. So, Fareeha, what wish will you make tonight?”

 

She stared back at the witch, her eyes sharpening as she narrowed them. Her biggest dreams danced on the edge of her tongue— _justice, peace, love_ — but she knew very well to be careful what she wished for. Her mother always said everything must be paid in what it was worth, and she could not ask the world of this witch when she had not given it to her.

 

“For my last cigarette and its ashes, I ask only for a comfortable night’s sleep in a warm bed,” Fareeha said. The witch tilted her head, and something changed in her eyes. The sly smirk eased into something different as she picked up her broom and plucked a few pieces of straw from the end. She twirled them in her fingers for a moment before she pressed them into Fareeha’s palm.

 

“Sleep with these under your pillow, and you will dream well, and you will find your covers fending off the cold more than they ever have.” The witch nodded to Fareeha as she stepped onto the yellow paint. “I hope we might meet again, Fareeha.”

 

She could barely muster an acceptable response before the ground began to glow a bright amber. The golden light engulfed the strange woman, and when the darkness of night returned, the witch was gone. Fareeha blinked, once, twice, and then glanced down at the straw still in her hand. She closed a fist around it, holding onto the only evidence she had of anything that had just transpired as she walked to her car.

 

When Fareeha sat on the edge of her bed that night, only the weak light of the lamp on the bedside table illuminating her bedroom, the straw was still in her palm. She had not let go of the strange gift, and set to examining it carefully. The pale yellow color was the same as any straw she’d even seen, and her right hand felt no different from her left. There was no sign that the witch, if she truly was as she said, had enchanted the hay to do anything different. Fareeha had been looking forward to a good sleep, but she supposed not much was worth cigarette ashes, and she’d most likely gotten what she paid for.

 

Fareeha took a golden hair tie from her nightstand and wrapped it as tightly as she could around the straw without snapping the pieces in half. She carefully placed the small bundle under her pillow, then pulled the cover over herself and smiled.

 

“It seems that draft has gone away, at least,” she said to no one before laying down. When her eyes closed, she found that her body’s desire to twist on turn on her lumpy twin mattress had been quieted, her eyelids seemed to close before she had thought to do that herself. Sleep was not far away, and Fareeha thought before it finally caught up with her, _I suppose fire can buy more than destruction_.

 


	2. Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say there are certain roads, in certain places you might not think to look, and if you follow them to the end, you can close your eyes and make your deepest wishes come true.

Fareeha watched her reflection spiral into a contained whirlpool as she absentmindedly stirred her drink. The lightly colored coffee hadn’t been touched since it was poured for her, except for by her spoon, creating a gentle, slow swirl. The longtime bartender and owner, Reinhardt Wilhelm was the only company, faithfully cleaning already clear glasses in the silence of the empty bar. The only lights that were on was the strip over the long wooden bar, since there was no one else who needed light besides the two of them.

 

 

“Very slow night,” Reinhardt remarked. His words echoed around the room, as always, and a small smile tugged at Fareeha’s lips. _Every night is a slow night._ However, she couldn’t find the voice to say anything back. Her mind was clouded with the memory of those icy eyes and hair so bright it seemed like the sun had touched it. If she stared at her drink hard enough, she swore she could catch an outline of the beautiful stranger, staring back at her. It had been weeks since she’d seen her face, but she still couldn’t stop thinking about her.

 

 

“What’s on your mind, little lion?” Reinhardt tilted his head and watched as Fareeha paused, then began to stir her coffee the other way. The quiet of the room and Fareeha’s mood seemed to get to even Reinhardt, whose voice had softened. Fareeha glanced up at him and then sighed, shrugging uselessly as she pushed her coffee away. He put his washcloth down and walked over, leaning over the bar as she fumbled for the right words to say.

 

 

“Ah, it’s... nothing,” Fareeha hesitated, after leaving the man in silence for a moment. “I’m just worried I’ve started something that might change things.” Reinhardt looked her up and down, and then laughed boisterously, shaking his head. Fareeha sat up straighter, a confused smile playing at her lips.

 

 

“You’re too kind, worrying about an old man like me,” he boomed, clapping a large hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. She jolted, surprised at the sudden gesture, and looked back up at him. “This bar has been slowly emptying out for years, Fareeha. If your life takes you somewhere else, I would not mind. You do not have to protect me from anything, as you are so fond of doing. All I would ask is that you come back with plenty of stories to tell.”

 

 

“Oh.” Fareeha felt her face heat up and had never been so glad for her skin color, hiding her silly little blushes. She tried to swallow the rest of her reaction by picking up her mug and taking the largest swig she could manage without choking. “I don’t know if I’d be going anywhere. I’m just worried I’ll take it too far.” She set the glass down and sighed, wiping the cream mustache off her top lip with the back of her hand. Reinhardt shook his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pulled a washcloth off his belt to offer to her.

 

 

“When have you ever been worried about such a thing, Fareeha? Your passion has gotten you everywhere you’ve wanted to be,” Reinhardt said as he poured himself a glass from the tap. He drank half of the huge mug in one chug and slammed it on the counter, hard enough to shake the whole thing. Fareeha was far too used to it to flinch. “Your young fire is so refreshing. I’m just surprised it hasn’t taken you away from this little city, like all your friends. And your m—”

 

  
“There are rich families in the area that pay well for my services.” Fareeha cut him off quickly, concentrating a hard glare at his one working eye. Reinhardt’s grin settled considerably, but didn’t leave his face entirely “I do not want to end up like my foolish friends, partying all their money away, or my... mother. And I enjoy your company far too much to leave, Reinhardt.”

 

 

The bar fell silent again. Reinhardt smiled wistfully, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks as he looked at Fareeha. Maybe the little girl who used to sit on his lap and listen to fairy tales was somewhere inside, but right now, there was a woman before him, and he’d gotten to watch her grow up. Fareeha slid the money for her drink across the counter and stood up, picking her coat up off the seat next to her. She slid it on and looked up at Reinhardt as she zipped it up.

 

 

“Same time next week?”

  
“As always, little lion,” Reinhardt nodded to her as he picked up the same clean glass he’d been wiping off since Fareeha walked in. She looked back at him only once before ducking out of the bar, and spared one glance at the sign over the door before crossing the street and beginning the short trek home. The flickering neon made it seem like it had purposefully programmed with a strobe effect, but Fareeha knew ‘Wilhelm’s’ wasn’t really the place for flashing lights and rave music.

 

 

The fallen leaves crunched under her boots as she forced herself to stop thinking about things like that. Wilhelm’s would always be around, Reinhardt with it, and her small apartment would always be only two blocks away. The chilly air didn’t seem like something to complain about, even inside her own head, so she’d always be more than willing to make the five minute walk down to the small bar.

 

 

All the same, as Fareeha buried her gloved hands into her pockets, she couldn’t get the look in Reinhardt’s mind out of her mind. The warmth that had settled so deeply into her bones, from both her bed and the bar, seemed to seep out as the memory ate her away. There had to be something she could do, but now that she was thinking about it so much, she realized she had no idea where any of her old friends had run off to. They had to have been spread across all four corners of the earth, with no intention of returning. Somewhere inside, she didn’t blame them, but being ‘the last one’ had a certain type of heaviness to it.

 

 

She paused just before the sidewalk beneath her became a road. Fareeha picked her eyes up from where they’d been intently staring at the leather of her boots and looked from side to side. The street was empty of cars, and the sidewalks were empty of people. There was a comfortable silence stretched over the desolateness of her town being so devoid of life at an hour she couldn’t consider late. All the same, she supposed it was good that there wouldn’t be any people to see her do what she about to.

 

 

Fareeha stared at the manhole cover in the middle of the intersection. One hole was letting steam drift out into the night sky, and it was into this hole that she knew she’d make her legend come true for a second time. Fareeha checked the streets a second time, and when she again saw no headlights coming towards her, she pulled the contents of her pockets out and stared at what she had in the palm of her hand.

 

 

One receipt, from her last visit to Wilhelm’s, an unchewed stick of pink gum, and an old phone number. Fareeha recognized the harsh strike of the numbers across the strip of paper, and with a laugh she realized she really must not have worn that particular coat in a very long time. The owner of the number had dropped back in town months ago, for one visit, and given her his number. To keep in touch, he’d said, before he disappeared back into the world to have his adventures.

 

 

She really hoped she was making the right decision as she stuffed the scraps of paper into the half-circle between the manhole and the road. They slowly drifted down into the sewer water below, and it was too dark for Fareeha to know when they would have been swallowed and carried away by the current running beneath her. She had no choice but to just wait.

 

 

Fareeha picked her head up, her eyes tracing the horizons for any oncoming cars. On the stretch of road to her right, a truck was moving towards her, but it turned before the intersection she was still standing in the middle of, waiting for that confident, foreign lilt.

 

 

One minute passed, then two. Maybe she’d taken ‘bury’ too literally this time around, or perhaps it didn’t count, since her offering was probably a considerable distance away from her by now. Fareeha looked around, from side to side, then behind her, and her eyes returned to staring at the manhole cover, as if the witch was going to pop out of the sewers. That couldn’t smell pretty. She desperately hoped she wasn’t coming from the sewers.

 

 

“Isn’t this considered littering, my dear Fareeha?” She heard some call from the sidewalk. She was turning towards the voice in a second, her heart pounding terribly as she caught sight of her witch, sitting side-saddle on her broom and smirking at her. Fareeha glanced from side to side out of habit before bolting to wear the witch was floating. She was dressed in the same brown robes as the first time, despite the drop in weather, and holding a few pieces of paper that Fareeha recognized as her offering— surprisingly, none of it was waterlogged in the slightest.

 

 

“You came,” she said, for lack of a better sort of greeting. She looked the witch up and down, and she was just as she’d remembered, though she seemed to shine brighter, despite the darkness. The witch was floating above Fareeha, but close enough for her to touch, and not high enough that her neck was straining to see her. She reached down and tilted Fareeha’s head up higher, smiling warmly.

 

 

“I see you’ve been using my charm,” the witch observed, with a hint of something Fareeha couldn’t quite place in her tone. “I’m glad it’s working so well for you. You seem much healthier, with better sleep.” Her hand fell away from Fareeha’s chin, resting on the curve of her broom handle. Fareeha stared at her, her eyes trailing down from the witch’s eyes down to her waist, where the same leather-bound book was strapped to her belt. A glass bottle, full of something grey, was in the slot next to it. The glass inside had smeared in some places.

 

 

“Are those... mine?” Fareeha tilted her head as the realization dawned on her, brighter than the witch’s golden hair, who was hiding a smile behind her hand as Fareeha stared at the bottle of what she slowly recognized as ashes.

 

 

“Well, they’re mine now, aren’t they?” The witch responded with a warm laugh weaved into her words. “I wouldn’t have revealed myself for cigarette ashes if they weren’t useful to me, you know.” She dropped to the ground, or rather, glided, as ‘dropped’ seemed far too simple a verb for such an elegant and graceful motion.

 

 

“Of course not,” Fareeha nodded in agreement. She glanced around herself again, before she nearly forgot where she was. The streets wouldn’t stay empty forever, and there was always a chance that someone might catch sight of the witch, dressed so oddly. All it took was one person, in such a small town.

 

 

“What have you brought my today, Fareeha?” The witch looked down at her palm and carefully examined each scrap of paper. “A receipt for one beer and a plate of fries at your favorite bar, one stick of original flavor chewing gum, and a phone number that belongs to an old friend. It seems you had much fuller pockets this time.” She turned them all over in her hand, then nodded and tucked them in between the pages of her book. “And what would you like to ask me for this time?”

 

 

“I....” Fareeha hesitated, deliberating her answer before forcing it out. “I want my friends to come back to Wilhelm’s. Just for one night. It’ll make him happy.” She looked down at the witch’s hand, still full of her offering, and the witch stared at it as well, silent for much longer than Fareeha was comfortable with. Many moments passed, quiet in the cold, before the witch peeled the wrapping off the gum and popped it into her mouth.

 

 

“It will be done, my dear,” the witch promised, smiling slyly as she reached behind Fareeha, who inhaled sharply as the witch’s fingers brushed against her hair— only to have her hood pulled up and over her eyes. Warm laughter filled the air as the witch stepped back, shaking her head. “It’s too cold not to have a hat, magic or not.”

 

 

“What are you, my mother?” Fareeha could barely catch herself, the expression rolling off her own tongue so easily, but her words faltering at the end couldn’t be missed. She sighed through her nose, eyes closing so she wouldn’t have to see the witch’s questioning gaze. Just like everyone else, so curious as to why it was such a touchy subject.

 

 

But nothing came. She opened her eyes, and Fareeha nearly choked when she saw that the witch was still standing in front of her, with the same smile on her face. Sweet, but something dangerous lying underneath it. It was fine to let herself get buried in the mystery of that expression, in the town that had wasted away with time.

 

 

“I must admit, I did not think I would see you again, Fareeha Amari,” the witch said quietly, “but I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed our meeting. My work will take some time, but your wish will be granted within the month. And how lucky that it was this particular month, yes?” She smiled, and then turned around, walking off into the night and chewing her gum. Fareeha watched her turn down the nearest street, and she did not need to know much to know the witch would not be there if she followed her.

 

  
Fareeha looked around, and somehow, the empty streets and sidewalks didn’t seem quite as lonely anymore as put her hands in her pockets, now lighter than before, even if they were only missing a few scraps of paper. She looked both ways down the road, and then crossed it, heading towards her apartment, now only one block away. Her bed was still warm and waiting for her, and Fareeha found she was eager for the night to pass and the next day to start.

 

 

As the witch had said, the fulfillment did take some time. Three long, slow weeks passed with nothing changing, except the weather growing colder and Fareeha’s bed slowly growing warmer, even it it stayed empty besides her own body. She could see it from where she stood in her doorway, pulling her hat down around her ears. The rest of her apartment was still as freezing as ever, and Fareeha had a feeling one day, the witch’s charm wouldn’t be enough to keep herself warm.

 

 

She stepped into the outside after allowing herself that small moment of hesitation. It wasn’t enough to put her behind schedule, and she’d arrive at Wilhelm’s with time to spare. Which, of course, Reinhardt would be ecstatic about, since she knew he’d want to plan something for her. Every year, he was insistent on at least getting a cake, which Fareeha conceded to after all the constant pestering from the old man. Although, she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

 

 

Fareeha walked two blocks, and then made a left turn. Unlike that night three weeks ago, the street seemed busier. More parked cars, at the very least, although the through traffic seemed as sparse as ever. She drifted towards the street side to get a better look at all the cars parked on the side, the owners of which were surely patrons of that new restaurant that had opened down the street. Although, she had to admit, the make and models were a motley crew, spanning everything from old pick-ups to sleek Mazdas. Fareeha swore she had even seen a limousine in the back, but she forced herself to look away and not investigate before she blew past the bar completely.

 

 

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile when she saw that every single one of Wilhelm’s lights were off, even the single strip above the bar. Reinhardt, it seemed, did not much to do, or else he would have not gone through all that for a surprise Fareeha knew was coming, but she could deny an old man his simple joys. Just as she expected, when she tried the handle, it was unlocked.

 

  
She stepped in and took her coat off, stamping her boots out on the mat just inside the door. She tucked it under her arm and smiled as she watched Reinhardt’s hands come up and push a cake onto the bar, one lit candle in the center, and then drop back down. It was definitely bigger than expected, and with an eye roll, Fareeha accepted the fact that she’d be taking it to work to try and get rid of the leftover pieces.

 

 

“Reinhardt, you’re just being ridiculous,” she said, half to herself and half to Reinhardt and the empty room. She walked over and pulled the barstool out, patiently waiting for the old bartender to creep back to the lightswitch and turn it on. She laughed a bit when she heard the floorboards creak over by the control panel.

 

 

 _“Surprise!”_ Every single light in the bar flashed on and a chorus of dozens of voices were shouting, all at once. Fareeha could hardly believe her eyes when she saw all of her high school friends come practically pouring out of the woodwork. Jesse, in all his flannel glory, poking his head out of the closet— Genji rolling out from under the table— Lena and Amelie being the counter— and even more, all tucking themselves into every single nook and cranny Wilhelm’s had to offer, all for her. A delighted smile was hardly the proper reaction to show how she really felt, but it was probably the most her body could have handled.

 

 

“You— you’re all—?” Fareeha’s sentences were coming out in short fragments as she whirled around the room, getting a good look at everyone’s faces. They all swarmed the bar to get close, and Fareeha was pushed on to her bar stool to have the seat of honor as they all sang for her. She was, again, incredibly thankful for her skin color, hiding her face heating up out of a mix of happiness, surprise, and embarrassment. At the end, she blew out the single candle, but couldn’t think of a single wish.

 

 

“How did you guys get here?” She looked around at all of them, their faces so familiar, yet so much older and mature than she remembered. Genji leaned over her shoulder and picked up the candle to lick the frosting off the bottom, much to Hanzo’s dismay, who smacked him for his rudeness.

 

 

“Your friend Mina called us up,” Genji said with a grin. A few soft whispers echoed the same sentiment. “Said that having us back was your one wish this year, and none of us could stand to disappoint you.” He laughed, and the others joined him, the sounds of their voices amplified by the echo of the room. There was no way the cold was coming in, with so much warmth in the bar. Fareeha felt her hair messed up by a rough hand and she reached up to catch the person’s wrist before they could disappear.

 

 

“Jesse,” she started, and then her eyes went wide when she realized who’d actually come over. “Jack!”

 

 

“Hey,” the old man barely had time to say before Fareeha flung her arms around him. Just over his shoulder, Fareeha saw someone else start to turn and creep away, and she grinned as she grabbed Gabriel by the neck and pulled him back into a hug. She felt both men deflate as they knew there was no escape to their fate.

 

 

“Boss!” She heard Jesse yell, and his arms soon were wrapped tightly around Gabe, who was unable to fend off a third attack from Genji. Laughter filled the room again as everyone got an open at Gabriel’s expression. Even ancient and scarred, he couldn’t hide how much he loved getting a hug from his favorite students.

 

 

“You three have grown a lot since graduation,” Gabe muttered as they finally let him go. “Fara, what are you now, five foot ten? Eleven? Too high. I should have cut you off at the knees when I had the chance.” Reinhardt and Jack got a good chuckle out of that one, Fareeha could hear from behind her. She beamed and stood up even straighter than she did naturally.

 

  
“Five eleven,” Fareeha reported proudly. “Taller than both Jesse _and_ Genji.” Genji put his hand over his heart, dramatically moaning at the blow and throwing all five foot nine inches of himself into the performance as Jesse spluttered from where he was standing next to him.

 

 

“‘Scuse me, little lady, but I am six foot one, and I hope everyone in the room heard the lies you tell,” Jesse said, flicking his cowboy hat up and smiling down at her. Fareeha laughed and pulled it down over his eyes, pushing him back.

 

 

“Everyone in this room knows you’re only five ten and a half without those absurd boots on,” Gabe fired back, and now Jesse was the one with his hand over his heart. Lena laughed the loudest at that before she zipped over to embrace Fareeha tightly. Amelie and Satya were not far behind, and Fareeha was surprised when even the latter two embraced her, as brief as it was.

 

 

“I missed you so much! Here, I want you to meet someone,” Lena chirped, cockney accent as thick as ever as she pulled Fareeha over to the booth she’d been hiding under earlier. A red-haired girl was sitting on the bench, waving politely. From her accent when she introduced herself, ‘Emily’ was as British as Lena, who had gone back to London right after graduation to fly, of course, and Fareeha couldn’t say she hadn’t missed the little ball of energy, either. Lena had been the first to go, always blazing trails as fast as she could get off the old ones.

 

 

“Fareeha, come back over here. Birthday girl gets the first piece!” Reinhardt boomed from across the bar. She smiled and Lena reluctantly let her go back to the bar, where Reinhardt was holding out a plate with a huge corner piece on top, with a scoop of ice cream slowly melting next to it. Fareeha smiled and shoved a hefty forkful of cake that was more frosting than actual cake into her mouth, to stop any of her three dads from nagging her about eating on her birthday, like she knew they would.

 

 

Fareeha took her place and sat next to Jesse and Satya at the bar. A string of fairy lights taped to the edge twinkled brightly as the sound of guitars started to drift over the speakers. Fareeha smiled brightly, wider than she had in years, and she found her eyes absentmindedly drifting over to the mirror behind the counter, covered slightly by shelves of bottles. There was just enough of a gap between the merchandise for her to see through the window outside.

 

 

It was somewhere in between Jesse going through the story of how he had become a literal, actual cowboy at his new job in Arizona and Satya talking about her mother and brother in India that Fareeha’s eyes slid back to the mirror just in time to see a head of blonde hair and a wicked grin in the reflection. She whirled around, plate rattling loudly as she almost took it with her. Though she was smart enough to know not to be too disappointed when she saw no one there, there was still a heaviness in the empty window that she couldn’t quite place.

 

  
“You good?” Jesse quirked his eyebrow as he looked Fareeha up and down.

 

“Is everything quite alright?” Satya tilted her head when Fareeha still didn’t respond. It wasn’t until Olivia had sauntered over and thrown one arm over Fareeha’s shoulder that she snapped out of it.

 

 

“She just saw someone, Saty. No need to worry,” Olivia smirked knowingly. She booped Fareeha’s nose and then started to (attempt to) tug Satya over to the karaoke machine, assuring her she knew some way to get songs the machine wasn’t supposed to have. Fareeha just shook her head and laughed at the two, before turning back towards her cake.

 

 

“Mina, huh?” She said, more to herself than anyone else. Jesse shrugged and started to go off about ‘that weird swiss woman who seemed to know ya so well, so she couldn’t have been lying.’ She smiled and then picked up the single white candle off the counter where Genji had left it, wiping it off with a stray napkin before putting it in her pocket.

 

 

When she felt that same prickling on the back of her neck again, Fareeha didn’t pay it much mind at all, since by then she was having much more fun listening to Reinhardt excitedly recount the story of Room 207’s ‘lotion incident,’ which Gabriel, despite it having been his room at the time, still swore he had no knowledge of. With everyone listening to attentively to Reinhardt, Fareeha could confidently say that the pure joy on her old friend’s face was more than enough of a birthday gift.

 

 

 _Thank you,_ she mouthed to no one, and when the hairs on the back of her neck settled, she knew she’d been heard, and could settled back into the couch to enjoy the rest of the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Gabe says 'Fara,' it's not a typo, it's a nickname. :) 
> 
> There's a bit of backstory to this AU, too much to vomit into the chapter, since it would take focus away from the actual story. Basically, mostly everyone went to the same high school and then dispersed across the land. Jack and Gabe were teachers, but also close with Ana, so by proxy, close to Fareeha.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, as long as it took!


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say there are certain people, waiting in certain places that no one else knows, who can spin your heartbreak into joy and wash all your worries away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done and ended up not having it checked over... so please make me aware of any weird phrasing/typos. And please enjoy the final chapter!

The witch stared at at the cross Fareeha had dug into the dirt with her boot. It fit nicely between the dried, nearly dead tufts of grass that still tried to hold on, despite being crushed the changing seasons and shifting times. It seemed that Fareeha could respect that sort of thing, as she’d chosen to complete her ritual in flat land, dragging her shoe forward and backward, then side to side once she was satisfied with the first line. It was therapeutic, almost, a nice rhythm when she already had nothing else to do except wait.

 

 

It had been a while since that night at the bar. The witch had not heard anything from her latest client. The wind did not whisper with her desires, the beginnings of a deal, or at least it had not until now, until this strange cross in the dirt. The witch could not fight her desire to appear once more, most likely for the last time. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, allowing herself to shiver once before revealing herself.

 

 

“My real name is not Mina, if that’s what you’ve summoned me here to ask,” the witch broke the silence with a laugh. “Did you forget what I told you?” She floated an inch above the ground, twirling her broom as she looked down at Fareeha. Fareeha was not looking back, or giving any indication she’d heard the witch’s teasing. She was still staring at the cross in the dirt, her hands in her pockets, her back to the breeze.

 

 

“How much can you do, witch?” Fareeha said after the silence had outlived its heaviness. Her eyes were bright when she looked up, and it startled the witch almost to settling on the earth. There was something either swimming or burning in Fareeha’s soul,, and neither could mean anything good. Tears meant too much emotion, and anger meant too little thinking. Both could bring an easy deal, but for once, the witch was not eager to jump into it.

 

 

“It depends on the payment, my dear,” the witch evaded, keeping her smile steady. Fareeha nodded as she digested the words. “I am quite powerful. But you know you must think about what you ask for. It doesn’t always turn out quite how you might mean.” The witch’s fingers tapped at the wooden handle, her old heart seeming to awaken at the look she was given. It was an ancient emotion, something foreign, maybe even primal. That was something she could fight, at least.

 

 

“It won’t be easy,” Fareeha said, “but can you do it for me? It will be my last request of you. I’m sure I’ve taken up much of your time with my silly wishes.” The witch watched her jacket shift, as Fareeha’s hands flexed in her pockets, and her eyes moved to the side again. Nervous. The witch shook her head and let herself drift forward, closer to her target and to her prize.

 

 

“Wishes are how I live, dear. You should never be sorry for them.” The witch looked down at Fareeha and tilted her head up with two long, elegant fingers, smiling at what she’d decided was fire. Fareeha’s face did not change, but the witch could feel her blood heating up underneath her skin. “Just give me your request, and I will give it all to you.”

 

 

“I want you to bring my mother home to me,” Fareeha said quietly. “And I will give you everything I have for it.” The wind began to pick up, whipping her short hair around her face, but the look in her eyes remained unwavered. The witch swallowed audibly and quickly decided to laugh instead, forcing a warmth in it to balance the coldness in Fareeha’s voice.

 

 

“I don’t need quite that much,” the witch said as she gripped her broom tightly. “Just her name. That will be enough. She’s not dead, is she?” The witch chuckled lightly, but she did not like how Fareeha said nothing at that, her mouth opening for a second, and closing the next. The air went still, and the women did too. A shadow had passed over them before Fareeha spoke again.

 

 

“My mother’s name is Ana. Ana Amari,” she spoke clearly. “I don’t know where she is, or if she is alive, but I want her to come home. ” Her back was straight, her head tall. The witch pushed off the ground to sit on her broom once she’d had enough of Fareeha’s eyes trying to wrestle their way into her soul. Or what was left of it, at least.

 

 

“I’d have a room prepared by the end of the week,” the witch said. She hovered, something in her blood willing her to stay. Fareeha’s eyes had traveled to fixate on some point in the sky, surely lost in plans for rearranging furniture. The witch would have had a perfect opportunity to disappear without being seen, but that something was still tugging at her. She leaned down, closer to the woman in front of her, and licked her lips slightly. “Close your eyes, my dear Fareeha.”

 

 

She seemed slightly startled, but Fareeha didn’t object. Awfully trusting, but the witch couldn’t complain. She studied the other woman’s face closer, analyzing her features. Her copper skin, firm jaw, and strong nose seemed reminiscent of a face the witch had seen long ago, but she was having a bit of trouble placing the face to her memory. Fareeha was distracting in her own beautiful way, and the witch was far from worried about falling under that spell.

 

 

“We’ll meet again soon,” the witch promised under her breath before finally tipping over the edge. Her lips were hot yet sweet on Fareeha’s, but by the time the woman had reached up to pull the witch closer, she was gone. Her hands closed around empty air, and she let a sigh out before opening her eyes again. Without wasting time, Fareeha began to head back to her apartment, eager to start preparations.

 

 

The witch, in her own corner of the earth, was moving quickly. Her table was cleared except for a set of faithfully burning white and pink candle, one on each corner. The cat lounging on her counter, nestled in between a few jars of herbs and hibernating concoctions, opened one blue eye to watch her flit around and search through her boxes. The other one, a deep brown, stayed shut in either annoyance or a hope to return to sleep. Eventually she’d made enough noise that the cat sauntered over to knock one of the aged wooden boxes off the shelf. Gems scattered over the counter, but froze in place before they made it to the floor.

 

 

“Go back to sleep, will you?” The witch snapped. She analyzed the rocks floating in the air before selecting a few choice gems. The rest rearranged themselves in the box as the witch placed three stones she’d selected on the table. The rest were relocated to other places in the already disorganized room, and the witch set off to dig through the overstuffed drawers of her cluttered desk.

 

 

“Bottom drawer,” the cat called out, hopping down to nudge at the handle. The witch stuck her tongue out at it before pulling the parchment she’d been searching for out of, as her pet had indicated, the lowermost drawer. She pulled a quill from one of her many jars and scribbled down the start to the spell. The cat tilted its head at her before climbing onto the table, fixated on the twitch of the witch’s fingers and her constant frown.

 

 

“You don’t want to do this,” it observed. The witch sighed heavily, hesitating as she reached up for her next ingredient. A moment passed over the room before she plucked a small garlic bulb from her drying rack. It was tossed into her mortar and pestle, and with a wave of her fingers it was grinding itself. The cat licked at its paws, hiding a smile. “What’s gotten in the way this time? A pretty girl? We’re both too old for this, .”

 

 

“Be quiet or the next thing I steal from you will be your tongue,” the witch growled. Her tone was aggressive enough to keep the cat quiet for a few moments. It lazily walked across the table, pacing for a moment, before arranging the crystals around the cauldron in the middle. The witch was too busy deliberating between using caraway seeds or caraway flowers to divert any of her attention to chasing the cat away from her workspace.

 

 

“Golden topaz, snakeskin, and peridot? This seems like overkill,” the cat muttered, its tail gently sweeping over the wood as it thought about the best formation for the three gems. “Trying to find your pretty girl’s boyfriend for her? What a shame. All rubbish in the end.” It nudged the glittering stones into a triangle before laying down and observing the witch gather the rest of her ingredients.

 

 

“Her mother, actually,” the witch said. She snapped her fingers to send the garlic into the pot, as well as a few caraway flowers and other things she’d gathered from around the room. The cat rolled its eyes and sneered at the smell, slinking away to the corner as the cauldron began to emit a strange glow. It had closed its eyes by the ingredients inside began to let a strange mist curl and dance on the edge of the iron pot. The witch paid no mind to the animal and traced her fingers around the cauldron, manipulating the smoke to rise and swirl. A moment had passed before the grey mist began to shine and show her what she’d wished to see.

 

 

As the sun was setting around her little workshop, the sun would soon be rising in other places, and it showed as the smoke cleared to allow a glimpse of an old woman sleeping on a rooftop, hugging a rifle like a child would a stuffed bear. The sky began to turn from a deep, rich indigo to streaks of yellow and pink, illuminating the grey hair of the strange woman- though her hair was all the witch could make out. The face was obscured, shifting constantly and distorting at random. the witch frowned and waved her hands, attempting to clear the image, but nothing changed until a single piercing golden eye opened and stared straight at the witch.

 

 

The cat growled and let out a hiss, seemed to fight against itself as it was dragged into a sitting position. The witch’s eyes flickered between the cat and the smoke image, swallowing thickly as her old heart, though long dead, beginning to pound in her ears. The woman on the roof was unmoving as the witch’s cat contorted and struggled, until it finally stilled as well and simply opened its jaw.

 

 

“I do not wish to be found, witch,” snarled a foreign, heavily accented voice, coming from within the cat. The witch started, blinking at the animal, but her expression hardened at the thought of anyone invading her space, and more importantly her minion. It took a considerable amount of restraint not to burn the hag as she laid there, instead glaring into her eye as the woman spoke again. “Did my daughter send you? She knows I’m alive?”

 

 

“No,” the witch lied as smoothly as she could through her shock, though perhaps she responded a bit too quickly. She shifted her weight to one leg and her hand easily her hip, doing her best to keep her face pleasant. It was hard to hide a sneer for the woman she’d been prepared to admire. The mother of such a warm, strong woman, hiding on a rooftop and abandoning her child... in her years, the witch had seen much darker and more twisted things she found despicable, and was surprised to feel the vitriol seeping into her voice. “There are others who wish to see you home, Ana Amari. You’d do well to return to them, and I could even help you skip over the travel fare, if you’d like. What do you say?”

 

 

“Absolutely not,” Ana responded sharply. Her body shifted on the roof, her face still muddled, though the witch could gather that she was turning her head to peer over the edge of the stone. “I have work to do here. Fareeha would understand. There are others to think of.” The cat was rigid, nearly statuesque. The witch grit her teeth, but her smile stayed, as tense as it was becoming.

 

 

“Not even for a visit?” The witch had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “How long have you been away from home, Ana? Your girl has grown up, and you’ve missed quite a bit of it, haven’t you? There’s still time to catch up. Go home, see your old friends again. There’s still a spot empty at Wilhelm’s.”

 

 

The cat hacked out something like a laugh, its claws digging into the wood counter. “You won’t tempt me, little thing. I’ve picked up a thing or too, as old as I am, and I won’t be taken down by the likes of you.” Ana laid back out on the roof, and the cat yawned as she did. “Take whatever my daughter gave you for yourself. She’s outgrown me, and I’d only disappoint her if I came back.” One gloved hand waved up at the smoke mirror, and Ana turned her back on the witch.

 

 

The cat was released with a snarl, coughing and shivering. The witch frowned, but waved her hand to cast aside the smoke. The cat watched her and frowned, leaping onto the table to look up at her with an indignance searing red hot in its expression. The cauldron was knocked over and the smoke drifted out to dissipate in the air, the ingredients lost just as the hope for closing the deal with Fareeha.

 

 

“Are you out of your mind?!” The cat screeched. The witch had to stop herself from laughing at the rage stewing in its expression. “How are you going to just give up like that? I’ll be out of a more than a few meals, especially if you’re going to give up and waste away over some girl. It’s been colder in this place ever since you met her, and you’ve been keeping me up all night-” The animal raged, practically foaming at the mouth, but the witch just smiled and reached down to pinch its muzzle close with two fingers.

 

 

“It has been a bit colder, hasn’t it,” She replied. She let go of the cat and turned back to her supplies, calling her broom over as the animal began to scold her once again.

 

—

 

Fareeha had just managed to settle for the evening with her fingers nervously dancing over the edges of her book when there was a knock on the door. She started, her eyes flying up to the entryway, her heart pounding in her chest when she thought of who had to be waiting on the other side. It had been nearly a week, and the witch had kept her word before. The book was cast aside and Fareeha jumped up, but as she walked towards the door, her legs began to wobble and feel weak.

 

 

 _Would she be surprised to see me now?_ Fareeha reached for the doorknob, her hand stilling as it touched the smooth metal. _Is it really her? Would she believe me if I told her about my deals? Would she be angry, or find it funny?_ Fareeha tried to picture the face of her mother, but it was hard to imagine anything other than the photos from when she was younger. Before the accident. Would her mother’s face be aged, wrinkled, or would it be the same... if she’d been ‘brought back?’

 

 

A knock came again, tearing Fareeha from her thoughts. She swallowed and steeled herself before opening the door open, only to see the witch standing before her, a dark cat curled up at her feet. No one stood behind her, or next to her. Fareeha frowned, the hand still clutching the doorknob shaking around it. It couldn’t be, but somewhere inside, she’d known this all along.

 

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Fareeha said before the witch could open her mouth, “you can’t bring back the dead. It was impossible from the start.” She sighed and let her eyes fall to the floor, allowing herself a moment to hang her head before picking it up and looking the witch in the eye. “I apologize for wasting your time.” In her heart, she still wanted to give the witch her payment, but the old feelings she’d thought gone were seeping into her body again, she wanted to let it rest. Fareeha began to close the door, but before it could get much further shut, the witch knocked it open again with her broom.

 

 

“It is my turn to make a deal with you, Fareeha Amari,” the witch said. Her eyes lacked the sort of piercing sense of _knowing_ , and though her expression possessed a softness rather than any sort of anger, Fareeha still froze. “I have given you much- warmth, and friends, and I had chased away your coldness and loneliness, but you must know my simple charms cannot solve this forever. Straw can burn. Friends can leave. Sometimes there’s a darkness within us nothing can shed light on.” She stepped forward once, and Fareeha felt her cheeks heating up.

 

 

“I know what you hope to find, if I could have brought your mother back.” The witch’s fingers tightened around the handle of her broomstick, and something passed over her face before she looked back up at Fareeha. “And I will give it to you, and my name, for nothing at all. Just a little company on cold nights, and someone to stay by my side.”

 

 

Fareeha had planned on opening her mouth, but the witch pushed herself up on her toes and kept the woman’s mouth closed with a kiss. There were no fireworks, but there was something so deeply right, the witch could feel her heart stir in her chest, and no longer thought to question the function of the rotted organ. A hand came up to rest somewhere on her chest, and the witch could have stayed like that for more than a few minutes if it not for the feeling of the cat shifting against her leg.

 

 

“Angela,” the witch said. “Once, I was called Angela, and it has been true name for centuries.” She smiled at Fareeha’s face, pressing her finger against her nose and then walking into the apartment. Fareeha smiled and shut the door behind her, able to forget her sadness in the witch’s— Angela’s? what a gorgeous name— eyes as she moved into the kitchen.

 

 

“I’m glad you walked in,” Fareeha smiled, putting a kettle on. “I’d hoped to invite you in for tea one day.” The cat settled at Angela’s feet, purring in its rare contentedness. The witch could have even brought herself to pet the cursed thing’s back as she watched Fareeha fix two steaming drinks.

 

 

Angela wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to know such a woman, unlike some in the world. After centuries, a foreign warmth had begun to return, and she was loathe to let it leave without a _thorough_ exploration. Fareeha brought the drinks and set one down in front of the witch, her smile lighting up the room enough to chase away the darkness in both of them— and when it returned, they would have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) thanks for staying with me for my first multi-chaptered fic! I know this took so long but I'm pretty okay with how it turned out. 
> 
> did you figure out who the cat was?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know of any edits, formatting issues, missed tags, or any other improvements I can make, and don't forget to leave kudos and comments if you liked it.


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